


Geronimo

by monsterhospital



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, D/s, Face-Fucking, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 12:09:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterhospital/pseuds/monsterhospital
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis get into a fight. Louis is the best at holding grudges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Geronimo

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [drunktuesdays](http://archiveofourown.org/users/drunktuesdays/pseuds/drunktuesdays) for putting up with my frantic emails on how to write things and of course for beta-ing.

“Oh my god, stop being so daft.”

All five of them are sitting in the green room after the show, unwinding. 

“I’m not being daft, Harry. It’s true. I watched a special on the telly about it. Sharks hate people. If you’re in the water and there’s a shark nearby you, get ready because you are probably most definitely dead,” Louis states, sitting cross-legged on the dressing table; Harry lying against Zayn on the couch. One of the Twitter questions during the show asked them their biggest fears and Louis’ ridiculous answer was sharks. Harry gave him shit for it on stage but couldn’t seem to let it go once they finished the show. He sits up in disbelief.

“Whatever you watched was nonsense then, because that’s not true. Sharks are fine with people. You are insane,” he says.

“Am not,” Louis shoots back.

“Are too,” Harry retorts.

Louis opens his mouth to say something and Zayn interrupts.

“Boys, settle down all right. Agree to disagree. No use in getting up in arms about it.”

“I’m not up in arms. I just wish Louis wasn’t such an oblivious idiot,” Harry says, getting up from the couch to grab one of the water bottles laid out on the table next to Louis. As he goes to take one, Louis shoots his hand out and grips Harry by the wrist, tightly, holding it there as he stares Harry down.

“I am not an idiot,” Louis flatly says.

“OK, you’re not. You’re a moron,” Harry replies, trying to pull his hand away but Louis just tightens his grip.

“No. I’m not,” Louis says, with the same tone. Harry furrows his brow slightly and it takes a minute for him to get the message that Louis is no longer joking. He pulls his wrist out of Louis’ hand and rubs it with his other hand.

“Fine. Whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes slightly at Louis before sitting back down on the couch. Louis doesn’t respond and gets up, leaving the dressing room.

“Somebody’s feeling touchy tonight,” Harry sarcastically says.

“Think you might’ve actually upset him, mate,” Niall says from the other side of the room, fiddling on his laptop.

“I don’t know what his problem is. He was wrong. I was just tryin’a set him straight,” Harry says, genuinely confused. 

“Not the point,” Niall responds.

Harry doesn’t see Louis until they’re in the shuttle back to the hotel and Louis is busy on his phone as usual. He tries to apologize although he knows he doesn’t need to, but Louis ignores him.

Louis and Zayn go out with a few girls who work at the venue after dinner. Neither of them invite Harry and he doesn’t want to make a fuss because he knows Louis is in a “mood” so he ends up going out for ice cream with Liam and Niall. They get back around 1:00 AM and Harry feels still so jacked up on energy that he can’t fall asleep just yet. He kills the next few hours with texting people from back home, tweeting and getting lost in a bizarre Wikipedia hole that starts with him searching where Chris Martin is from and ends with him reading about the serial killer, Elizabeth Báthory. His eyes finally feel heavy around 4:00 AM so he removes his sweatpants and t-shirt and cocoons in blankets. Ten minutes go by and he thankfully starts to drift. Of course that’s when the hotel lock beeps.

His back is turned from the door and he watches as the hall light floods their hotel room, listening to Louis stumbling in. Grunting, Louis removes his shoes, lets them hit the floor with a loud thud and throws his jacket on the chair nearby Harry’s bed. Harry hears the zipper of Louis’ pants and they hit the floor with a muffled sound. He then feels a draft of cool air on his bare back and it takes him a minute for it to sink in.

Louis is now lying in bed next to him.

He tucks himself up against Harry, his legs nestling with Harry’s. He can feel the damp, sticky fabric of Louis’ boxers up against his back, along with what he can safely assume to be Louis’ hard-on. Harry continues to feign sleep, trying to keep his breath as steady as possible, one arm underneath the pillow and one at his side, knees bent.

The smell of cologne and perfume and sweat (presumably all products of the club) stings Harry’s nostrils as he slowly breaths in and out. Louis brushes his mouth against the base of Harry’s neck, his hand slipping underneath the blanket just so it can rest on Harry’s hip. His heart races as Louis nips and sucks on his neck and Harry can tell that he’s leaving marks. He can smell the alcohol every time Louis opens his mouth and he thinks whether he should stop him because he’s not in the right mindset. But he really doesn’t want to interrupt what Louis is doing because it feels so dirty, so wrong and so good. Louis nuzzles his hair and he runs the bridge of his nose up the back of Harry’s ear, causing Harry to shiver and his dick grow harder. 

There was something about this inhibition-free Louis that was doing it for him. Sure, he has had these reactions to Louis before. Sometimes, Louis would pop in his head while jerking off in the shower and it’s done it for him, but he honestly never thought that them actually fooling around would be a possible thing because, well, Louis was Louis. He never wanted to talk about his feelings, especially anything that threw his sexuality into question. He was only in it for the joke. But this Louis was different. He clearly knew what he wanted from Harry and he wasn’t afraid of it.

Louis starts to run his hand over Harry’s stomach, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles and his hand leading a little too low. It feels like one big tease, but Harry doesn’t want to it to stop. He knows if he gets off tonight, he’ll be getting off to the memory for months.

He slowly draws out the hand that’s shoved underneath the pillow, and slips it underneath his blanket to rub his cock as inconspicuous as possible. But much to his chagrin, jerking off is pretty obvious and Louis notices, grabbing Harry’s wrist and moving his other free arm between Harry’s neck and pillow. Louis cups Harry’s chin with his hand and pushes his mouth open, slipping two fingers inside. Harry reflexively sucks at them as Louis loosens his grip on Harry’s wrist, and grasps Harry’s cock. His body tenses and moves closer to Louis; his moans are muffled by Louis’ fingers that are filling his mouth and his hips buck into Louis’ hand, feeling his body flush because of Louis’ touch. Louis’ rhythm is so awkward and clumsy at first but Harry doesn’t care because he’s too focused on Louis being everywhere around him. His teeth grazing Harry’s sensitive neck and earlobe, his cock that’s hot and hard against the small of his back, his thumb that’s rubbing so often over the head of Harry’s dick and making Harry’s toes curl. And his fingers inside of Harry’s mouth, playing with his tongue. It’s so overstimulating that Harry has to fight his orgasm from coming too fast. He bites down on Louis’ fingers and Louis reacts by tightening his grip on Harry’s jaw.

Harry wants Louis to come along with him, and begins to grind up against Louis as best he can, his rhythm thrown off by Louis’. It’s not quite working so he uses a free hand to move underneath the covers, feeling for the opening of Louis’ boxers and slips his fingers inside, palming his erection that’s slick and hot with precome. Louis hisses against Harry’s neck and abruptly removes his hand from Harry’s cock and pulls Harry’s hand out from under the blanket, placing it on the bed. Harry’s not quite sure why Louis won’t let him jerk him off. It’s the least he could do after their scuffle this evening. But it’s not making any sense. Is it because Louis isn’t into him in that way? Does the thought of Harry touching him disgust Louis? But then what the fuck is Louis doing?

And Harry’s thoughts are interrupted because Louis is back to stroking him, and god, his rhythm has intent and purpose now, moving faster and faster. And the sound of it, the sound of Louis’ hand moving swiftly against the rawness of his cock makes him come, hard and fast. Louis seems to sense Harry's orgasm right before it happens because he shoves another finger in his mouth, pushing up to close it as if to muffle Harry’s moans.

The rhythm of Harry’s hips slows as do Louis’ strokes. Eventually they both stop and Louis draws his hands back to his sides, his forehead and nose resting up against Harry’s shoulder and Harry can feel uneven hot breath ghosting on his skin. Harry stares blankly in front of him, not saying anything because he can’t think of what to say. Louis is still hard against him and yet isn’t trying to remedy it; he’s just lying completely still against Harry. He wants Louis to know that it’s OK. He wants Louis to know that he liked it and he’s not ashamed of liking it. He blindly grabs behind himself, finding Louis’ hand to grip tightly, but Louis pulls away from it, and gets out of bed. The other bed creaks as Louis gets into it and Harry turns over to look at him but Louis’ back greets him. He can make out in the dark Louis’ ragged breathing.

“Lou?” He calls. But Louis doesn’t answer him. He stares at Louis’ body until sleep overtakes him.

The next morning, Harry wakes up next to an empty bed. Louis is already out with the other boys. In the shower, he wrestles with what to say to Louis about what happened. He wants to tell him how he liked it and how he liked Louis and how it’s OK if Louis wants it and likes him like that and that he’s sorry for being a bit of a dick after the show.

But at breakfast, Louis is acting like last night never happened. He’s making jokes about the girls who danced with him and Zayn last night, mimicking her dancing as best he can while still seated. He barely makes any eye contact with Harry.

While they’re all laughing and Harry is sitting there with a half-assed reaction on his face, Liam pokes at him.

“You alright, mate?”

Harry looks up to the other three boys as Liam says this, finally catching Louis’ eyes.

“Yeah, I guess...” he starts, trying to find some sense in Louis’ eyes or some sort of acknowledgement that what happened wasn’t just a freaky and vivid sex dream he had, but Louis remains expressionless.

Harry blushes and looks away; a wave of self-consciousness suddenly consumes him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m fine, thanks,” he stutters to Liam and Liam responds with his warm, squinting smile and ruffles Harry’s curls.

\--

Within a few short days, Harry’s relationship with Louis has grown extremely distant. The next hotel they come to Louis requests to stay with Zayn and Harry ends up getting the solo room. When he first found out Louis didn’t want to share a room, he was hurt but after all the tension between them this week, he’s kind of okay with getting a break. They’re all constantly together and it’s becoming exhausting to pretend like he’s not having a strange inner crisis every time he sees Louis. He’s starting to feel more comfortable with his alone time; his favorite time being in the mornings when everyone is down having breakfast and he’s able to take his time.

This was one of those mornings. He wakes up around 11:00 AM and decides to take advantage of the empty hotel room. His cock is already semi-hard because, well, of course it is. He’s 18 years old, when is it not hard? He forces himself into the bathroom, turning on the shower as hot as he can stand it, letting himself take a seat on the toilet so the steam can fill the bathroom. The steam is so heavy and it fills his lungs, allowing himself to feel all consumed by the thick air. Eventually he musters up enough energy to actually get into the shower, and stands there for a few minutes, allowing the searing heat pound against his back. Everything becomes numb within a matter of seconds, which causes Harry to turn down the temperature on the faucet before getting down to business. His cock. Right.

He presses his forehead up against the cool tile wall and begins to palm himself. He starts slow and awkward, trying to think of something that can continue his erection for a little while. He’s only alone so often; he’s got to milk this. He thinks of one of the girls from the meet and greet the night before, replaying her bending over in a short denim skirt to pick up her fallen ticket. Her thighs were soft, curvy and tanned, and they revealed just enough of her pink cotton panties that it made Harry blush and stumble over his answer for an interviewer. 

He keeps thinking of her thighs and what was past them, how it might’ve been to spread her legs wide; her skirt pushed up around her hips. It’s working. He’s getting harder and his strokes are getting faster and more furious. He shuts his eyes, going faster and faster and then it feels as if some light floods his eyelids. Is he going too fast? Maybe he left the bathroom door open? He keeps going. He’s so close.

“Keep going.” 

It’s Louis. His voice is strained and lower than usual and Harry continues to jerk off but slows his rhythm down, his stomach understandably now his throat. Harry opens his eyes and looks over to the shower door covered with condensation and steam but he can make out a figure sitting on top of the toilet. Louis. 

"...L-Lou?" Harry breaks out.

“What were you thinking about?” Louis rasps.

Harry’s mind is racing. He can’t remember anything. Louis is now sitting in on his private time, but he’s telling him to keep going. What the fuck is going on? In between pants, Harry can only muster “I don’t know,” which causes Louis to shake his head.

“Tell me who you were thinking about,” Louis demands.

“Uh--a girl,” Harry says breathlessly, his pacing starting to quicken again as the girl with the thighs comes back into focus in his mind.

“Which girl?”

“The one... yesterday...”

“Which one? The one in the denim skirt that you couldn’t stop trying to look up?”

“...yes...”

“Were you thinking about fucking her?”

A moan escapes Harry’s lips before he responds.

“Yes.”

“Were you thinking about how wet she was for you? How tight she would’ve been?”

Harry was. But he was also concentrating on Louis’ voice and how disgustingly lusty and intense he sounded right now. Louis never talks this way. He’s always making a joke and putting on a funny voice. But the rawness of his voice was making Harry grow harder than just thinking of the girl.

“Did you think about how she would’ve been screaming your name? How she would’ve squirmed while you went down on her? How you would’ve had to tell her to hush up when you finally fucked her, how her body would’ve been shaking underneath you?”

Harry was moaning loudly at this point, furiously pulling at his cock, so close.

“Nngh... yes...”

Louis’ voice becomes somehow lower and gruffer than it was.

“Did you think about coming all over her, on her stomach...” Louis starts. And with that, almost as if cued, Harry comes, some of it getting on the shower wall. He rests his forehead up against the tile again, his entire body shaking from the heat of the shower now pounding at his flushed skin. He lets himself rest there for a few minutes and then washes off the shower wall, splashing water on his face before shutting it off. He takes another moment before opening the shower door to steady his breathing, thinking about what to say to Louis. Does he thank him? That would be kind of weird, right? 

Except he doesn’t have to say anything, because the bathroom is completely empty except for his crumpled up towel on the ground. He picks it up and pulls it around his waist, tentatively opening the bathroom door. Louis is sitting up on the bed, reading his phone. He glances up to Harry, with an indescribable look and before Harry can get out the first syllable of whatever he was about to say, Louis locks his phone and gets up, grabbing a pile of clothes laying at the foot of his bed. He tosses the clothes to Harry.

“You need to be dressed and downstairs in two minutes,” Louis says, staring Harry down for a second and then slams the door as he leaves.

Harry ends up taking more than the allotted two minutes to sit on the side of the bed, naked, letting his thoughts settle. 

\--

It’s as if the less he talks to Harry, the more Louis has the desire to keep up whatever he’s doing. Harry doesn’t understand it fully, hell, he doesn’t understand it at all but there’s something about the lack of communication that’s keeping him turned on as fuck to anything Louis decides to do. It’s dangerous and dirty and hot as hell and yet it keeps inching into the obvious and potentially public territory. 

They’re all sitting in a row at a signing and there’s a lull in the line, which their manager takes advantage of and calls for a break. Zayn and Niall leave to grab waters and piss or something and Liam is all the way at the other end of the table, presumably tweeting on his phone. Louis stays seated next to Harry, quite uncomfortably close. He hasn’t said one word to Harry the entire time besides joking around for the screaming girls who walk past. Now with this alone time together, Harry finds himself feeling uneasy. He’s been waiting for Louis to do something, say something, which for some unknown reason has kept him partially hard all day. He’s thankful that today is just a day filled with radio spots and signings so he can wear loose enough jeans that don’t make it obvious whatever the fuck is happening to his cock. 

Finally, Louis leans over to whisper something in his ear and Harry moves his head for easier access, taking a sip from his water bottle at the same time.

“I know you’ve been hard all day,” Louis whispers, his breath hot up against Harry’s ear, sending shivers down Harry’s neck and causes him to choke on a mouthful of water. Louis continues.

“So disgusting. In front of all these kids as well.” His hand slips over Harry’s thigh rubbing in circles and eventually moves in between his legs, tightening his grip on his thigh for a second and it sends a shockwave to Harry’s cock. 

“Do you want to be seen as a pervert?” Harry grips the water bottle with white knuckles. He can tell Louis is looking around to make sure nobody is watching, and surprisingly enough nobody is. His hand moves and squeezes Harry’s cock.

“Hmph,” he chuckles softly against his ear. “What a shame. To let a thing like this go to waste,” Louis teases, squeezing and rubbing Harry through his trousers, his lips vulgarly grazing Harry’s earlobe. 

Harry squirms and his eyes keep darting around to see if Louis has missed anybody seeing and still nobody is looking. He feels like he should again probably stop this because the repercussions would be insane but he hasn’t had a satisfying jerk off since Louis coaxed him through it the other day in the shower. And that was like forever ago. Louis sits back and they lock eye contact and Louis smiles at him with heavy lidded eyes, his hand still rubbing Harry through his trousers. He glances elsewhere and rubs his bottom lip with the thumb on his free hand. Harry starts to bounce his knee out of... who knows what emotion? Nervousness? Excitement? Louis steadies him by placing his hand back on Harry’s thigh and waits until he stops. 

He then, still surprisingly only using one hand, unzips Harry’s trousers and slips his hand through the opening and through his boxers and grabs Harry’s cock, immediately working him as best he can due to the restrained denim. He squirms and his face flushes and his head aches, predicting that they are going to be caught at any second. Almost thankfully, Louis only has to stroke him a few times and Harry comes, embarrassingly fast. He lets a muffled moan out by accident as he crushes the flimsy water bottle in his hands. Louis quickly removes his hand and zips Harry’s trousers up, patting him on the back with the same hand he just used to jerk him off.

“Y’alright, mate?” Louis loudly says, causing Liam to glance up from his phone. 

“He alright?” Liam asks, looking to Harry. Harry knows his face is probably redder than any fucking tomato anybody has ever seen and he grins as best he can, faking a cough to play it off.

“Ha, yeah. Drank m’water too fast,” Harry responds. 

“Oh,” Liam says, looking back to his phone. “Be more careful then. We can’t go havin’ you die on us. You’re kind of important.”

“Yeah, Harry. Be more careful,” Louis says while staring straight at Harry; his tongue darting out to lick the corner of his mouth. Harry sighs all the breath that has been hitched in his throat.

“I’m gonna go piss,” he says, intending on running to the nearest bathroom without anybody taking notice, making sure his trousers have no obvious evidence on them.

Louis ignores him and takes out his phone. 

\--

It keeps on escalating. By this point there’s absolutely no discussion, no talking whatsoever about whatever Louis is doing, what his plans are. Harry wishes they could say something but isn’t sure at all what could be said. And he has stopped trying to reciprocate, despite every time Louis does something, Harry notices how incredibly hard he is as well. Harry wants to talk about that as well but knows that if they’re not talking about the main thing at hand, they’re definitely not going to be talking about how Louis never lets himself get off from it.

One night after a show, everyone is sitting in the green room, punchy from all the adrenaline. 

“Ugh, I left my laptop on the bus,” Liam says, as he tries to get up from the couch but slumps back down in his place.

“I’ll get it,” Harry says, already standing. He needs some fresh air anyways; the green room is becoming stuffy between them, the crew and the various interviewers crammed in.

“Thanks, luv,” Liam coos jokingly, stretching back over Zayn and Niall on the couch and draws his attention back to some documentarian that’s been following them around.

He leaves and waves to security as he walks outside to the claustrophobic alleyway their tour bus is parked. The silence is relaxing and he breathes the cool air in and out, filling his lungs and clearing his head. His eyes close and he savors the moment.

“Don’t move.”

Harry freezes and his heart feels like it stops. He opens his eyes to Louis staring back at him, his face indescribable. 

He backs Harry up against the brick wall of the venue, grabbing his arms and pinning them above his head. 

“Don’t fucking say anything or else I’ll stop.”

Harry doesn’t. He only stares at Louis and watches as Louis kneels down and immediately unzips Harry’s trousers, pulling them down to Harry’s knees. Harry hisses and bites his lip as Louis pulls down his boxers as well, exposing his cock to the cool night air. 

And then he swallows him and Harry feels relief and pure arousal as it hits him like a fucking truck. This is beyond wrong. But Louis somehow is better than any of the girls who have ever done this before. He knows how to twirl his tongue in such a way while he swallows. He can swallow almost all of Harry while perfectly timing his stroking hand on the rest. Louis’ rhythm is so frantic and so fast that Harry lets a kind of loud moan escape his lips as his hips begin fucking Louis’ mouth. Louis retaliates immediately by using his free hand to smack Harry hard on his side; Harry feeling the blood rushing to the surface of his skin, leaving a blazing red mark. His skin tingles and burns and the feeling of it paired with the wet sound of Louis’ mouth against his cock makes him come.

Louis steadies himself by grasping onto Harry’s hips, letting Harry fill his mouth. He watches in amazement as Louis swallows the last of his come, and he puts Harry’s boxers back on for him, standing up as he pulls the trousers back up as well. Louis moves in closer as he tucks the boxers back into Harry’s trousers, fingers lingering on the button enclosure. He leans in and Harry just pants, eyes darting from Louis’ mouth to his eyes. Louis’ mouth is glistening with saliva and come and he grazes his lips up against Harry’s parted ones. Harry doesn’t know whether or not this is supposed to be a kiss so he just stills himself, holding his breath as Louis just breaths hotly and slightly into Harry’s mouth while he zips up Harry’s trousers. Louis barely smirks against Harry’s lips, quickly turning on his heels and walking to the venue door.

“Oh, meant to tell you not to forget Liam’s laptop. We’re scheduled to do a TwitCam in 10,” Louis says and Harry can’t tell if he’s smirking slightly. He heads through the door.

Harry stands there, with his arms now asleep above his head and his mouth wet with his own come, shell-shocked.

\--

It’s upsetting when he realizes he now has reached the point where he can only get hard thinking of Louis or just being in his company. He can only jerk off at night when Louis is sleeping in the bed next to his, while he thinks about Louis’ voice or his touch. Eventually that stops being enough and Harry can only come when Louis is inherently aware of Harry touching himself or is responsible for jerking Harry off. It’s agony because it doesn’t happen as often as he would like. One night he comes just from the texts he gets from Louis who is lying in the bed next to him. (He tells Harry how disgusting he is, points out how loud he moans and how horrible he is for wanking off so often. Harry comes within the quick few minutes the texts arrive.) 

And one day, Louis just stops. Stops noticing Harry’s blatant erections, his pathetic glances. Stops everything. He seemingly goes back to “normal.” He starts joking with Harry again like they were before and Harry goes along with it despite being absolutely confused. There’s no mention of anything they’ve done together. Nothing. Harry gets so frustrated that he ends up whispering filthy things in Louis’ ear while they’re on stage, only to find Louis smiling and ignoring his requests entirely. 

It’s so beyond frustrating that Harry goes through about three days of not being able to get off that he rationalizes some proper revenge. Maybe if Louis notices what he’s missing right in front of him, he’ll realize what hell he’s putting Harry through. Harry isn’t sure the specifics quite yet but he’s pretty quick at thinking on his feet so he waits. Luckily, the perfect opportunity presents itself a few days later.

“You want to come with? I heard this place is supposed to be legendary,” Zayn asks Louis. He and Zayn have been ready for over an hour and Harry has been itching to leave. 

“Actually, my mum is gonna call in a bit, I think I’m gonna stay in tonight,” Louis says.

“Are you kidding? When have you ever refused to go to the club in your life?” Harry finds himself blurting out, tugging at his pants nervously. It’s a lot more judgmental than he’d like but it’s understandable because he’s so on edge.

“Thank you, Harry. You boys have fun for me,” Louis says and Harry swears Louis gives an acknowledging glance to his pathetic half-hardness that’s obvious in his skinny jeans.

They go to the club and despite the mass amounts of attractive young girls surrounding him, all Harry can think about is Louis and how low his voice gets when he’s sex-starved. He drinks until he stops concentrating on Louis and diverts his attention to one girl in particular that’s been dancing up against him the whole night, in the tight dress the color Louis’ cheeks flushed when he was blowing Harry in the alleyway. He realizes then the perfect revenge.

The girl agrees to go back to the hotel with him, almost without him even asking. They sloppily make out for a few minutes outside his door, giggling every so often because they bump noses. He fumbles his key in the lock and loudly shushes her and she nods as they tiptoe into the room. She notices a body sleeping in one of the double beds and starts to back out of the room, furrowing her brow and looking confused to Harry. He shakes his head and pulls her into the room, mouthing, “It’s OK.” She relaxes and they reach his bed. She tears off her dress and he smiles, glancing over to Louis sleeping body for a second. This is a good idea. He can show Louis that he doesn’t give a shit. That Louis doesn’t own him. Because he no longer gives a shit. It doesn’t matter to him if Louis wants to be normal again. He can get on without Louis just fine.

He pushes her on the bed and she laughs softly as she pulls him over her for a kiss. He slips his tongue into her mouth and everything feels warm and good and right. She reaches up to undo his trousers and pushes them off as he unbuttons his shirt and removes it as well. He trails kisses down her chest and stomach, loving every moment she quivers beneath him and how she makes soft reactionary noises to everything Harry does. He nips at the soft flesh of her thigh, before gingerly pushing her legs apart and burying his face between her thighs.

“Oh,” she says, lacing her fingers in his curls and gripping tightly. He licks at her, nuzzling every so often and brings up a finger to help her get off faster. She’s wet and hot from his mouth, and he keeps going until she comes, her thighs trembling around his head. He smiles at her when he comes up from between her legs. He glances again over to Louis and notices now Louis has shifted so he’s facing them and Harry can’t tell whether or not he’s actually awake and watching. He hopes Louis is watching like he intended. He wants him to see everything.

He goes back up to kiss her and she starts to pull at him through his boxers. He makes a point to moan louder than usual and he wonders for a second if the girl thinks he’s never had sex before because of how ridiculous he sounds. She parrots his moans and he breaks off a kiss, still sucking on her bottom lip as he looks over to Louis, trying to see if the moans have finally made him shift.

Harry’s eyes have adjusted enough to the dark that he notices Louis intently watching him despite still laying on his side as if he was sleeping.

“You must really like this,” she says, breaking Harry’s train of (Louis) thought.

“Hm?” he says, going back to kiss her neck.

“You just got so hard within like a second,” she breaks out, still touching him through his boxers.

“Mm. Because of you,” he says, pushing his boxers off. It feels like a lie, but she is doing something for him so he pushes his guilt back down in his gut. He then awkwardly leans over the side of the bed while still straddling her, fumbling for his trousers and grabs a condom from the pocket. He knows Louis is still watching and he puts the corner of the condom between his teeth, grinning at Louis as he pulls himself back up onto the bed. Louis glares.

He presents the condom to her and she nods, smiling while rubbing her hands up his chest.

He rolls the condom onto his cock and he can feel both her and Louis watching him. He wastes no time pushing into her, savoring her muffled cries as he gets a good rhythm going, dropping his head down to the side of her neck and looking to Louis with every thrust of his hips.

Harry hopes his eyes look as dark as they feel at that very moment while he stares Louis down, panting and replying to her loud cries with his own voice, rough and raw. Louis keeps watching, completely still. 

He comes fast again, looking to Louis as he does. She buries her face in his neck as his hips slowly stops thrusting and he pulls out. Harry flops back down on the bed so he can look at Louis, hoping he understands what he just saw and she curls up against his back.

“It’s OK,” she whispers. Harry isn’t sure what she’s forgiving him for exactly but nods and falls asleep.

\--

When he wakes up the next morning, alone, the girl having left at some point in the night. Louis’ bed is empty, too and Harry almost feels relief rush over him mixed with a terrible hangover when he hears the shower running. 

He’s grasping at things to say to Louis. They have to have some confrontation now after what Harry made him suffer through last night. The shower shuts off before he has any time to decide on what to say. Harry fumbles for his boxers, thinking he probably shouldn’t be completely naked for such a conversation and pulls them on.

Louis comes out of the bathroom, towel tightly around his waist and yeah, he’s hard. Harry sits on the edge of the bed, watching him as he rummages through his luggage for clothes. Louis says nothing and it’s killing Harry, making him sweat in places he didn’t know he actually could sweat.

“What the fuck is going on,” Harry blurts out before he can think of anything more poignant to say. 

“What do you mean?” Louis says, not looking up from his luggage. 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe I’m talking about you and your relationship with my dick?” Harry says, his entire body flushing hot.

“Hm,” Louis says, deciding on a pair of blue trousers and a striped top, throwing them to the side. He isn’t facing Harry. Harry watches him with his mouth open, brows furrowed, wishing Louis could see his expression right about now. 

“Louis, why won’t you talk to me?” Harry pleads.

Louis says nothing.

Harry gets down on his knees before he can talk himself out of it, rubbing them harshly into the carpet as he moves to Louis, placing his hands on Louis’ waist.

“What do you want from me? What can I do?” Harry says, wrapping his arms up Louis’ chest and resting a cheek on the curve of Louis’ ass.

“Nothing,” Louis says bluntly, staying perfectly still. Harry sighs. 

“I just want to say I’m sorry. For whatever I did to make you mad at me,” Harry says. “I want you to like me again.” 

He trails his hands down Louis’ stomach and starts to slip his fingers beneath the towel. Louis grabs Harry’s wrist and spins out of his arms, still holding the towel up with his other hand. Harry falls on his ass and sits there for a moment; Louis’ eyes are wild and his grip on Harry’s wrist becomes tighter.

“Lou, I just want you to like me again. Can’t I help you?” Harry asks, gesturing to Louis’ obvious hard-on. “Please. I want to do something. Let me.” 

He pleads and Louis still says nothing except he’s intently looking Harry up and down. He then releases his death grasp on Harry’s wrist and removes his hand from the towel, letting it drop to the carpet. He pulls Harry up by his armpits and throws him up onto the bed. It always surprises Harry how freakishly strong Louis can be. Harry goes boneless and lays there, staring intently at Louis’ now revealed cock. He absentmindedly licks his lips.

“Exactly,” Louis says finally.

“What?” Harry asks, completely confused. 

“Your mouth.That’s how you can fix this,” Louis says bluntly.

“...What?” 

“I’ll forgive you if you let me fuck your mouth.”

Harry isn’t really sure what to make of this. It’s kind of like going from zero to a billion immediately but he feels the overwhelming desire to wrap his lips around Louis’ fairly intense looking hard-on and has come to the conclusion that yeah, he probably likes it when Louis is in control.

“Oh... uh, OK,” Harry stammers, taken aback by Louis’ bluntness.

And with that, Louis climbs on top of him and sits on his belly. Any of the breath Harry still had in his lungs has been pushed out of him from the weight of Louis. His breathing becomes shallow and his face starts to redden due to the close proximity of Louis’ already fully hard dick that’s slick with precome. Harry lets Louis prop a pillow underneath his neck and stares as Louis readies himself tucking his knees up against Harry’s armpits and lifting his ass off Harry’s chest. He licks his lips, takes a deep breath and his mouth drops open, and Louis immediately pushes himself in. Harry’s breathing goes erratic again as Louis pushes down as far as he can go. His throat feels raw as it constricts around Louis’s cock. His eyes begin to water and he tries to breathe through his nose to steady himself from becoming a coughing mess for Louis. 

He stares at Louis through watery lashes and Louis stares back, pushing in deeper and Harry tries to relax so he can open his throat up more, but it’s difficult when he wants to cough so badly. But Louis is clearly loving it anyways, pushing in and out while he softly hums, running a thumb over Harry’s cheekbone to wipe away some tears that trickled out of his eyes. 

Harry’s own erection twitches in his boxers at this gesture. Louis was having a grand time being extremely distant and sexual robot and yet he goes and does something like that. It makes zero sense and Harry wants to wank himself off but he doesn’t dare move unless Louis tells him to. 

Louis quickens his pace and manages to go deeper, Harry’s nose grazing against Louis’ stomach every so often. He stops breathing as Louis becomes erratic and fast, clearly aware that his orgasm is almost there. His head is swimming and everything feels tense; his skin feels like it’s going to burst into flames and he swears he’s about to explode right here and...

“H-Harry. I’m gonna...” Louis breaks out.

Harry nods as best he can and Louis comes, pulling his cock out as it happens, letting some come get on Harry’s face. Harry breaths finally and right as he takes a breath he feels himself coming on his own, despite never once touching his cock, soaking his boxers to hell. His chest and whole body shakes as he pants in and out, his jaw sore and throbbing. His mouth feels like it was just stung by bees, lips feeling full and tingling. 

“All right. I forgive you, Harry.”

Louis gets off of him and pulls him up by the armpits again, propping him up against the headboard. He cups Harry’s face and kisses him sweetly which makes Harry wince at first, with everything being so overly sensitive, especially his mouth. He rubs the tear tracks into Harry’s cheeks with his thumbs and kisses him again.

“I can’t stay mad at this face,” Louis says, with a clear smile.


End file.
